"Humph!" grunted the smuggler. "Forgot to tell you about that bit.
It's the only place where you can touch the top, and you run agen it.
Hurt yerself much?"

"No."

"Then come on."

The rather swift descent was accomplished more easily than Aleck
anticipated, and he slid down into a pair of hands.

"Now, then, the next bit's diff'rent," said the smuggler. "You'll sit
down on your heels like to slide, but it arn't steep, and every now and
then you'll have to give yerself a bit of a shove to help yer down to
the next bit, and that's worse still."

"Worse?" said Aleck, trying to suppress a catching of the breath; but
the smuggler detected it.

"Not what you think bad," he said, with a hoarse chuckle, "but what we
call bad. You have to walk all the way."

"And there are no side places where you might slip into?"

"Not half o' one, my lad. There was a nasty hole at the bottom of the
next but one, that seemed to go right down to the end of the world.
P'raps it did, but we brought up big bits o' rock till some on 'em
caught and got wedged into niches, and then we kept on till we filled it
up level, and you wouldn't know it's there. Now, then, let's get down."

"Stop a moment," said Aleck. "I don't feel the wind coming and going
now. Have we got below where it comes in?"

"Not us. The tide's up above the mouth now, and there'll be no wind to
feel till next tide. Here's off."

The rustling began, and the two next portions of the strange zigzag
series of cleft were passed down easily enough, while, as he descended a
couple more, Aleck felt how smoothly floor and sides were worn and
carved, and began to dwell upon the time that must have elapsed and the
industry bestowed upon the curious passage by the smugglers, who had by
virtue of their oaths and their interest in the place kept it a secret
for generations.

"I wonder how many more there are," Aleck was thinking as he glided
down, when all at once Eben said, loudly:

"Bottom! Stand fast, my lad, while I get a light."

"That you, you scoundrel?" came in a strange echoing voice from a
distance.

"Ay, ay, this is me," replied the smuggler. "I'll be there soon."

There was silence, for, though eager to speak to the prisoner, Aleck
concluded that he had better wait, and not commence his first meeting
with the prisoner in the character of one of his enemies.

The next minute there was the rattle of iron or tin, and then a short,
sharp, nicking sound